Mycroft Holmes, Status: Missing
by BelinasEgg
Summary: Mycroft goes missing, and John makes it his mission to find him. A certain consulting detective is proving less than helpful however, and John must find the British government on his own. Joint fic.
1. Chapter 1

**My friend - Reena - and I have been writing joint fic, and we've decided to post it up. The odd parts are Reena's, and the even chapters my own. Enjoy!**

* * *

**One - Reena**

Sherlock sat back on the sofa and scrolled down through his texts. Two new messages: one from Mycroft, the other from John.

"Don't you read your messages?" slamming the door behind himself, John entered 221b Baker Street and tiredly flopped down into an armchair. Sherlock raised his eyebrows and held his phone up to prove that he did.

"I asked you to meet me at Whitehall two hours ago, Sherlock." John sighed.

"Whitehall? Why?" he frowned.

"It's Mycroft. I went up to Whitehall to give him those documents you said to pass on, but he wasn't there. He wasn't at the Diogenes Club either, not that his colleagues there were of much help. Silent witnesses, if ever there were any!" his face turned grim as he faced his friend, "Sherlock, I think Mycroft's gone missing."


	2. Chapter 2

**Two - BelinasEgg**

Sherlock looked distinctly uninterested about the revelation that his brother had gone missing.

"You think so?" he asked languidly, slipping the phone back into his pocket.

"Yes! Doesn't that bother you?"

"Not in the slightest. I can't imagine anybody actually wanting to kidnap Mycroft, and if they did, well they've certainly let themselves in for a nightmare. They'll be begging to give him back in a few hours."

John frowned, trying to get some sign that Sherlock was actually slightly concerned about Mycroft. The marble, stony features said not.

"He could be dead."

"You have little faith John. Mycroft is far too annoying to allow himself to be killed."

John scowled at him for a moment. He would admit, he'd never been overly fond of Mycroft. But...

"Do you have any idea who could have taken him?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, scooping up his violin, and pulling several squeaks from it, before running the bow along his neck absently.

"Just because Mycroft wasn't at his office, or his club, it doesn't mean some loon has decided to kidnap him. Relax, John." he said.

John stared at him for a moment, then dumped the huge bundle of files on the table with a bang.

"Fine." he snapped, stomping out of the room.

* * *

**Review?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Three - Reena**

John, considerably annoyed, left the flat and went out into the road to hail a cab. There were none in sight. As he waited, he thought about his friend.

John had known Sherlock for quite some time now, and believed (correctly, too) that he knew him better than anyone else. Sherlock may be cold-blooded and precise, but deep down John knew that he was capable of incomparable loyalty and unconditional love.

Not the sort of love that involved relationships and marriage – he hadn't even loved Irene Adler, the girl he so respected. No – Sherlock's love was true, like the sort of love one brother has for another.

Knowing this, John found it hard to believe that Sherlock – who had been there for him during all the hard times – would not bat an eyelid at the disappearance of his own brother. Didn't he love him _at all_? Didn't he even care a _little _bit? Finally, a cab drew up to the curb. John got in and leaned forward to speak to the driver.

"Where to, sir?" the cabbie asked.

John took a deep breath, "Take me to Scotland Yard."


	4. Chapter 4

**Four - BelinasEgg**

John soon arrived outside the yard, hurrying into the huge glass building, and bypassing security in the manner Sherlock managed effortlessly.

He finally was banging on Lestrade's door, tapping his foot impatiently against the floor. His thoughts from the street were chasing themselves round his head. He knew the brothers had had major disagreements. And disagreements between the two most intelligent men in the country tended to be significant, but... He knew that beneath Sherlock's cold exterior, there was real emotions and feelings.

Perhaps not on the same level as 'normal' people, but surely those emotions extended to his only brother?

Obviously not, considering his typical lack of interest.

Lestrade finally answered the door, glancing over John's shoulder and seemingly surprised to find the lack of tall, pale detective there.

"Yes?" he said cautiously, cocking an eyebrow.

"I need to talk to you." John answered, pushing past Lestrade into the familiar office.


	5. Chapter 5

**Five - Reena**

Lestrade cleared his throat uncomfortably, sensing a problematic situation.

"Where's Sherlock?" he asked eventually, as he and John took their seats.

"What is that to you? Do you think I am incapable of walking around London without him? I'm not his dog, if you haven't realised!"

"Right, of course, I apologise. So John, what can I help you with?" backing off a little, he leaned back in his chair.

He'd never seen John like this before.

John took a deep breath and answered, "It's Mycroft – Sherlock's brother."

An enigmatic look crossed Lestrade's face, which quickly changed to a puzzled expression, "Ah, I don't…"

"Let me explain, Lestrade, he's gone missing! Simply disappeared – vanished! He has no end of enemies, and he could be in danger…we _must _find him!"

"Sorry, John, back up – since when does Sherlock have a brother?"

John's jaw dropped. "What? I'm talking about _Mycroft_! You've met him – several times! Lestrade, what's going on? Check your files…he practically _is_ the British government!"

Lestrade incredulously pushed back his chair and opened a filing cabinet drawer. Taking out an enormous folder, he flicked through to 'Holmes'.

"I am afraid, John, that there is no such man in our records. You must have made a mistake." John was now fuming. He sprang from his chair, indignant and furious.

"Okay!" he shouted, "Alright! Play your little game! I don't care! I _will _find Mycroft – and I'll find him _myself!_" so saying, he turned on his heel and walked out of the office, shocked beyond belief.

* * *

**Please review? (=**


	6. Chapter 6

**Six - BelinasEgg**

John took a moment outside of Scotland Yard to calm himself. He couldn't believe Lestrade. The man had _seen_ Mycroft before.

He'd actually talked to him! Was this all a conspiracy? In the world of Sherlock Holmes, anything was possible. He was half tempted to just give up on the the whole venture.

But John Watson did not give up on things, and so he resolved to find Mycroft. Partly just to spite Sherlock. He would do anything to get the better of Sherlock. He had no idea what the insufferable git was doing right now, and he didn't care.

It was with only a barely detectable trace of hesitation in his step that he wound his way back to 221B. Just because he was going to find Mycroft, it didn't mean he had to do it on the streets. The flat was silent when he entered, and there was the hope that his heartless flatmate had gone out.

It was not the case.

Sherlock hadn't moved a single inch, a smirk on his face as he watched John enter the room. John didn't look at him, and hence didn't notice the detective sliding his phone from view.

There was that comfortable kind of silence which often occupied the flat. Sherlock continued to lie like a corpse, and John thought long and hard about where Mycroft might actually be, sending resentful looks at Sherlock.

It was the consulting detective that broke the silence.

"Did you write up the triple murder case?" he asked.

John recognised a peace offering when he saw one.

"No."

Silence.

"How did that date with that woman go?"

_Two amiable comments in one day. That must be a record._

"Fine."

Sherlock huffed, glared, and rolled over so his back was to John.

Silence reigned again.


	7. Chapter 7

**Seven - Reena**

John watched Sherlock with contempt for a few seconds before opening his laptop and logging onto his blog.

"John," Sherlock said over his shoulder, "are you really still angry with me?"

John looked up with a start. This wasn't like the usually cold-blooded detective. It seemed as though Sherlock wanted to say something that he was holding back.

John couldn't be angry with him for long, and had already forgiven him…to some extent.

"No, Sherlock," he said quietly, "I'll see you in the morning."

He got up and hobbled off to his room, feeling the searing pain in his leg returning. The situation was growing awkward, and anyway, it was late.

He could resume the search for Mycroft tomorrow.

Sherlock watched him go with a smug smile on his was invaluable as a companion – he could be fed _any _story and would believe _any_thing!


	8. Chapter 8

**Eight - BelinasEgg**

Sherlock didn't bother moving when John left. He just sat. What was so wrong about leaving Mycroft alone? It would hypocritical to the extreme if he tracked his brother's every move, just as Mycroft did to him.

And on the subject of hypocrites, John didn't have a leg to stand. His relationship with Harry was dangerously unstable, and he hadn't heard from her in weeks. _Weeks. _Mycroft had been gone for a few hours!

With a huff, Sherlock easily scrolled through his texts, letting a smug smirk twitch his pale lips.

John woke late. For once the flat was silent. And for once, he hadn't been woken by a screaming violin, a gunshot, an explosion, or a shout. Maybe Sherlock was still trying to make up to him. John didn't quite understand the strange young man's motives.

After all, he supposed it was Sherlock's choice. But whenever Sherlock pronounced he didn't care, the side of him John didn't like reared. The sad, lonely, hostile side. The side that didn't have friends, and was not that much different from Moriarty. That was probably his main reason for being annoyed.

He trundled downstairs, leg a little better than the night before. It was rare for it to flare up these days. A very brief glance round the room told him Sherlock hadn't moved. But once he'd come back, and sat down, he found that the files he had been supposed to deliver to Mycroft were gone.

"Sherlock?"

"Mmh?"

"Those files for Mycroft, where did they go?" John asked.

It would be typical of Sherlock to burn them or something equally stupid and spiteful.

"His assistant took them." Sherlock droned.

"Anthea?"

"I couldn't tell."

John bit back the huff in his throat, along with the question of whether Anthea was worried about Mycroft. Instead he finished his tea, and grabbed his laptop.


	9. Chapter 9

**Part Nine - Reena**

"Blogging again?" Sherlock asked dryly, but in a tone that was still somewhat apologetic.

The comment was, as Sherlock put it, made to 'break the ice'. John thought about the peculiar man, and realised how he was different from Moriarty. Yes, perhaps a side of him was that cold, unemotional side that came with genius…but the other, which Sherlock was reluctant to admit he possessed, was kind and understanding to the extreme.

"Not that it would matter to you," John snapped, trying to put up a price as best he could – which wasn't easy with his best friend, even when the detective was being irritating as he was now.

He looked across at the sofa, and a tinge of guilt washed over him when he saw Sherlock's hurt expression.

"Well, Sherlock, I'm going out. Have fun here…by yourself." John didn't know, as he left the flat once more, whether that final remark was made in the hope to get the brilliant detective to join him or not.

After all, he could use his help, and the second reason (an idea John couldn't believe he was even entertaining) was because, deep down, he actually missed running through the London streets, solving crime with the enigmatic Sherlock Holmes. It was crazy, but John actually _missed _having Sherlock with him!

As John went out into the street, he resolved to begin the case…and to find Mycroft by the following night. He'd have to go to Whitehall first. He had no idea that, back at Baker Street, Sherlock wasn't just lying on the couch. He was really on the case of a first-class forger, and was doing quite well.

Sherlock had found the man's lair, the required evidence to get a conviction (in the form of video recordings from bugging that same lair), and was currently searching for the hideout of the man himself. He was busy…but not that John knew or cared.


	10. Chapter 10

**Part Ten - BelinasEgg**

It was nearing lunch when John Watson entered 221B. Sherlock didn't appear to have moved, and his stony features didn't acknowledge the doctor's entrance.

John immediately read all the signs, and with a sigh realised that his flatmate was sulking. Or at least pretending too. Sherlock had a habit of doing that when displeased, and somehow John knew that walking out on his friend was a action which Sherlock wouldn't approve of.

He was still feeling slightly antagonistic towards Sherlock. Why couldn't the stubborn man pull himself together and actually doing something nice for once? Despite being sure Sherlock was 'good', he didn't often show it. There was an awkward silence, both studiously ignoring the other.

Sherlock's phone pinged with a text, but he ignored it. That was the only sound for ten minutes, Sherlock pretending to look down a microscope, and John pretending to read a book.

"What are you doing?" John asked when the silence got awkward, even for them.

"Case." Sherlock grunted.

"Oh? One of Lestrade's?"

"Yes."

John gave up there and then. He was irritable and annoyed. Never a good mood to be in when talking to Sherlock. He had tried Whitehall first, deciding Mycroft's other haunts could wait. He looked glumly back on what had happened.

_He'd approached the huge gates, and found several men on guard. Not for the first time, John actually wished Sherlock was there. He could probably had come up with some story to get past the hulking men._

_"Can I come through?" lame, but what else was he supposed to ask?_

_A guard sneered in an unfriendly manner at him._

_"Not unless you have a pass, 'guv." he said in rough tones._

_"I'm looking for Mycroft Holmes, is he here?"_

_"Never 'eard of 'im." _

_John absently wondered why the government (i.e Mycroft) hadn't bothered to hire guards who could be understood._

_"Are you sure? This could be a matter of great importance."_

_The look he had been given clearly told him that he should leave before he got arrested._

Sherlock looked up at him, rolling his eyes.

"I'm going out. Coming?"

The consulting detective hardly need ask the question. John immediately jumped up and followed his friend and flatmate, still pondering the case Mycroft had created.


	11. Chapter 11

**Eleven - Reena**

Sherlock hurried down the street and hailed a cab. John stood with him, suddenly feeling braver with his friend by him.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes? Scotland Yard please, cabbie." Sherlock instructed the cab driver and replied to John in the same breath before settling down in his seat.

"Sherlock, I'm sorry - "

"Quite alright." he answered, flashing one of his blink-and-you-miss-it grins.

John breathed out, relieved that he hadn't had to go further with an emotional explanation and apology...he wasn't sure how he'd explain about his annoyance at Sherlock's stubborness, anyway.

The cab drew up outside Scotland Yard and Sherlock leapt out, followed by John. The pair walked into Scotland Yard and straight to Inspector Lestrade's office.

"Lestrade!" Sherlock yelled triumphantly, slamming the door open and causing the police detective to jump to his feet with fright, "I have him! Whitehall, immediately, we don't have a minute to lose!"

"Whitehall?" the other stuttered.

John looked on in silence, completely lost.

"Yes, the evidence is clear! Get your men moving, and I'll meet you there!"

"Can I have a name?"

"Sir Rutherford Giles."

"THE HOME SECRETARY?" Lestrade tried to add something, but couldn't. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Yes, the Home Secretary, now do you want to catch him or not?"

Lestrade stretched a shaking hand out to reach the phone on his desk, "I'll meet you and John outside Whitehall, Sherlock, but you better hope to goodness that you're right!"


End file.
